


peeling oranges

by or-ng-c-ss-dy (o_r_ng_c_ss_dy)



Series: moonshine and orange drink [3]
Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Anal Sex, Cooking Oil as Lube, Feelings Realization, First Time, M/M, Olde Au, Tenderness, it existed but it was prescription only, lot of metaphors about peeling oranges, so chuck taylor invents using oil as lube, they had to make do with what they could get okay?, yes i did google history of lube to figure out that they couldn't just go and get sex lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy
Summary: no one had ever done that, cracked him open and looked inside.but orange was there. he was there and he was looking. chuck just hoped he liked what he saw.he especially hoped that he liked him enough to let him do this again.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy/Chuck Taylor
Series: moonshine and orange drink [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012569
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	peeling oranges

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy, time to write a fic for [ my pal nic](https://kentucky-gentleman.tumblr.com/) for no reason at all.
> 
> i'd honestly been thinking about their first time going all the way for a little while, so shout out to nic for giving me absolutely no reason to write it. please accept it as a gift. i don't know why it's so long, i guess i just had a lot to say about these 1920s boys falling in love with each other.
> 
> enjoy!

The full moon hung low in the sky over the Delaware River, washing his sweet, liquor flushed cheeks in a softer light. Orange hadn’t even wanted to drink down by the river, breath puffing out in little gasps as he looked from side to side, trying to make sure that there weren’t any cops around, but Chuck had sworn that they weren’t going to get caught with the flask, sworn that he’d sweetened the moonshine with some of his orange drink.

He gave another glance over his shoulder. They really were alone, no one else by their spot that late at night, the cops were all too busy with bigger problems than two men sharing a drink by the river. So he took the flask from Chuck’s hand, and Chuck tried to ignore the feeling of their fingers brushing together, even as Orange lingered for just a second too long. Chuck’s eyes slid over to him, trying to ignore the thought in his brain that told him to burn the sight of him in so he could remember that moment forever.

Chuck wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t need a memory like that, didn’t need the image of a fellow sharing a flask with him because Orange wasn’t going to just be a memory. He was going to stay right by his side, and he knew that he couldn’t be thinking like that, watching Orange’s throat work around his mouthful of moonshine and orange juice, eyes squinted a bit like the sweet juice did hardly anything for the burn. 

His brows knit together and Chuck pulled the flask from him so he could cough without spitting into the drink, but he just swallowed thickly, keeping everything down. Chuck couldn’t help but think that he’d drink it anyway, even if Orange did spit everything back into the flask, a gross thought that had him flushing a little as well.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Orange said, voice all quiet like he was still worried about someone hearing them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Chuck hummed, raising the flask to his lips, right where Orange’s own lips had just been. It was always on his mind whenever they shared a drink like that, Orange’s mouth had been right there and Chuck knew that it was just something else he couldn’t think about, sipping from the flask, staring at petal pink lips in the moonlight.

“Maybe this prohibition business will be over soon and you won’t have to drink moonshine or gin anymore. We could find something you like better.” Chuck suggested, and Orange nodded, taking the flask again when Chuck offered.

Something he liked better. Orange was a nice young man from a good family, he had a good head on his shoulders. Eventually, his parents would suggest he find a wife, a family friend’s daughter, the sister of one of his friends. Chuck didn’t have a sister, just a flask filled with orange juice and moonshine, and maybe that was all he had. Getting drunk down by the river until prohibition was over, staying with Chuck until he found himself a nice little wife to have nice little children with.

Maybe he could go to the wedding, watch Orange smile at his new bride. And they’d still see each other at first, until Orange and his bride moved out to the country, a nicer little town to raise a family in. And Chuck would write in his chicken scratch, simple way, and Orange would respond in cursive that he could barely read until he stopped responding, too busy with his whole new life to deal with an old friend.

Fading into Orange’s past. His wife would call him Julius. It was fine. He’d come over once for dinner, little blond children polite at the table, he never liked kids but they’d remind him a lot of Orange so he’d be able to tolerate them as Orange carved up the roast that his wife spent all day on. And she’d ask how he met her husband, and he wouldn’t know how to answer because they hadn’t met as much as they’d collided. Orange had come crashing into his life, bodies meeting before their hands had.

He wondered if Orange would lie then, say they met at college, something more suitable for polite society. Polite wife, polite children, a nice young man with a nice family, the elephant in the room invited to join for dinner. His wife would say that he could spend the night in their guest bedroom, but he’d say that he’d have to go, trying not to think about how he spent nights in the past with Orange in a bed that they’d shared, wanting things that he couldn’t let himself think of wanting. His wife wouldn’t even know that he was the elephant in the room.

The elephant in the room. He thought that Orange was beautiful the first time he saw him, standing on the street, eyes wide as he tried to pat the orange juice off of his shirt. And he thought he was beautiful then, passing a flask back and forth under the light of the full moon, blond hair practically silver, cheeks flushed. He’d think he was beautiful then too, surrounded by everything a man should want, a wife, children, a good house. Chuck across the table with none of that, staring him down, still wanting everything he shouldn’t.

And he’d tell Orange that he looked well, and his little wife would smile, and Chuck would think that he really wanted to say that he looked good, and--

He’d be fine with it. He had to be fine with it.

Chuck put his lips back where Orange had, taking another deep drink from the flask. It was cold, river breeze and night making them both shiver, but the drink made him feel a little warmer, cheeks feeling flushed. He drank a little more, passing the flask back over to Orange, shuffling in a little closer until their knees were pressed together

He could get a little closer. There was no one around after all, no eyes but his own to watch as Orange took another drink from the flask, getting drunk together by the Delaware River. He didn’t have much schooling, but he remembered something about Washington and a boat, forging the river. Travelling. He’d travelled so far to find himself, to find a version of himself that wasn’t a rotten moonshiner, escaped that chain gang, and he’d found...well...

He’d found something. He’d never been on the other side of the Delaware River but he’d found something on that side, thighs pressed together, warm and drink-sleepy, Orange really starting to lean against him. And he’d find a wife one day, but he hadn’t yet, passing Chuck the flask and staring up at the stars high above them.

And he thought that he might like to take him home in that moment, _you look well_. And _you look good_ , because he did look real good under the light of the full moon. And, if he said it outloud, who would tell but the stars and moon up above them?

He opened his mouth to speak, but he really didn’t know what to say. Everything they didn’t talk about, everything he shouldn’t want. He should want a wife too, maybe their wives could be friends or something, but he didn’t want a wife. He didn’t want kids. And he didn’t want Orange to want any of that either. He couldn’t put words to what he wanted exactly, just that he _wanted_. 

Chuck knew exactly what he wanted. But he couldn’t say it, so he sipped on the flask instead, lips where Orange’s had been. Everything he wasn’t supposed to want. He’d spent time in prison thinking about what it might be like when he got out, he’d always figured that he’d find a nice little wife that wouldn’t mind too bad that he’d done time, they could get a little bit of land in Kentucky, have some children. It had sounded nice at the time. 

He hadn’t thought about it for a second since he’d made his escape, hopping that train, blowing into Philadelphia...meeting Orange. He’d never thought they’d made boys that pretty, they certainly didn’t make them like that in Kentucky. California sun smile, golden blond hair. He hadn’t thought anything about finding a wife since being on that chain gang, he hadn’t needed to. Chuck already had someone to come home to, someone to share a bed with, someone who made him meals and kept the house tidy. And he hadn’t ever heard Orange talking about finding a wife for himself either, so...maybe he was fine with what they had as well. 

Maybe it could always be like that, sitting there in front of the Delaware River, sharing a flask. Maybe that was better than the life he was supposed to want. It was cold but he felt warm and good, pressed thigh to thigh with his roommate. Everything he wasn’t supposed to want, everything that he had. It was warm and good.

He could lie to himself. Say that he still wanted the wife, the land in Kentucky, the kids. Jail dreams. It might even be nice. But, sitting there in comfortable silence, sharing a flask with Orange...he hadn’t ever been an honest man, not in the eyes of the law or to himself even. But he could be honest, just to himself, and let himself want what he wasn’t supposed to have.

But...he had it, didn’t he? Settling into the same bed at night, waking up to the smell of breakfast. Eggs in the morning, sunny side up, coffee made just how he liked it, an orange, peeled and split in half for them to share. Tearing off segments, sweet juice in his mouth, dragging a piece of toast through the yolk on his plate.

He had it. Orange packing him a lunch as he looked for work, odd jobs to make ends meet, pooling their resources together, a sandwich of some sort, eating while working usually. Coming home to him, stopping and picking up some sweets for him, he knew which ones Orange liked and it was the least he could do, especially when he came home to dinner just about ready. Kept well fed, he had everything that he wasn’t supposed to want, not with a man at least.

Chuck had shared food with others before but, passing the flask back to Orange so he can have the last swig, it always meant a little more with him. Splitting an orange in half, sharing segments, orange juice and moonshine, Orange at his side. Everything he wasn’t supposed to want, everything he had.

Chuck tucked the now-empty flask into his inner pocket. He wasn’t drunk, there hadn’t been enough in the flask for both of them to get drunk, but he just felt warm and good, and Orange was leaning a little harder against him. And he figured that they’d go after they finished the flask, but Orange tipped his head over, resting on his shoulder and sighing, content. Warm and good. 

He let himself have, lifting his arm up and putting it around Orange’s slim shoulders. He could convince himself that it was just to stay warm but, truthfully, he did it because he wanted it. Wanted...wanted Orange closer to him...wanted...wanted Orange. He wanted Orange.

He wanted Orange.

The realization dawned on him but it didn’t feel like too much of a surprise. Chuck wanted Orange and...he wanted to want Orange. Even when he wasn’t supposed to, he’d...he’d fallen for him anyway. Doing things that he wasn’t supposed to, it was what landed him in prison the first time around, and it was probably going to get him there again, but there weren’t any cops around. They had checked.

Still, he found himself looking again, pulling his eyes away from Orange’s hair and rosy cheeks. The riverfront was empty. It was just them. It had always been Orange, since that first day where they crashed into each other’s lives. Bodies before hands, he slipped his hand down and brushed the back of it over Orange’s, almost too afraid to touch because...what if it was all in his head? What if sharing oranges, segment by segment, was something he did with all of his friends.

The answer came quickly, Orange turning his hand slowly, Chuck doing the same. Palm to palm, Orange’s hand so much smaller than his. Delicate fingers sliding between his, lacing together. Hands before bodies, Orange lifting his head up to look at him, a quizzical little look on his face. He wondered what he was thinking but he didn’t have the courage to ask, because a part of him feared that they weren’t thinking the same thing at all.

That what they did sometimes in their shared bed meant more to him than it ever meant to Orange. When he reached out to touch him and Orange touched him in return, it couldn’t mean nothing to him...right?

There were no cops around. He’d checked. He had to find out, find out what all of it meant. Orange was looking at him, and Chuck was moving in just a little bit closer, leaning in slowly, like he was afraid that Orange was going to get spooked by any fast movement. 

Maybe he should’ve asked. But there was no one else around, it was just them, and the distance between them was rapidly shortening, and…

Well. He just looked like a fellow that should be kissed and kissed often. So Chuck did, leaned in to brush their lips together. Just them and the Delaware River and the moon and the stars, and Orange’s lips were soft and pliant against his, and--

And he’d meant to keep it chaste, but...sweet juice, segmented oranges, tasting juice and moonshine on his tongue, right there on that park bench. It was enough to make a man go crazy, enough to make him think about doing things that could certainly get them arrested, so he had to pull back and get a good look at him.

A good, long look. Pale lashes sweeping against flushed cheeks, blinking blue eyes up at him. He was so beautiful and Chuck knew it, had always known it. 

He wanted to keep kissing him right there but Orange was standing up, quickly, more than a little flustered.

“Chuck,” he breathed and, for a second, Chuck thought that he’d fucked everything up, that he had been looking too far into it, but then, “take me home.”

And, well, he wasn’t going to refuse that request.

As they walked home, Orange slipped his hand into Chuck’s, fingers twining together once again. He didn’t let go either, not until they were back home, not even when they passed anyone by. No one gave them any trouble but, still, it had scared Chuck just a little. He wanted Orange to see him, see his desire, split his ribcage and see his heart inside, but...he didn’t want anyone else to see. With Orange at his side though, he was okay. Warm and good, Orange’s little hand cradled in his. His heart, his hand, was just for Orange to hold but...if others looked in saw it too, that’d be okay.

Sitting in prison, working on the chain gang, thinking about a wife...land in Kentucky. He didn’t want a wife or land in Kentucky, he wanted Orange and the bed they shared in their Philadelphia apartment.

They didn’t live too far from the river and, with Orange’s hand in his and the warm buzz from the flask they’d shared, it felt like it took no time at all to get back home, get up the stairs, and to their door. Orange fumbled a little with the key, unwilling to let go of Chuck’s hand to unlock their door. Eventually, though, they’re stepping through.

Their apartment looked exactly the same as it always did but, for some reason, it looked a little different in ways. Like he was seeing it differently all of a sudden. In a different light. Chuck didn’t know, everything felt different. They’d kissed before but there was something about that one kiss, right there on the park bench, and he knew that Orange had felt it too.

He’d never taken Orange to bed before. Not with the intention of doing anything besides going to sleep, it usually happened if the mood struck when they were already in bed. Reaching over to touch him if he felt like it, grinding against each other in the morning, but never...taking him to bed. It felt different, bigger than what they usually did, like…

Like they were going to...and would Orange even be okay with that? Did he even know what _it_ was? Chuck certainly wasn’t going to tell him that it was illegal. Chuck barely knew what it was, but he knew that he couldn’t just...stick it in there. He felt virginal, nervous, hands starting to sweat a little bit. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before, they’d been doing more than just sleeping in that bed for quite some time at that point, and more frequently as of late as well. But, when he was confronted with the opportunity to finally propose it, Chuck felt as if he was going to choke on his tongue.

Orange was leading him over to the bed, face fully flushed. Chuck could feel his hand shaking a little, he knew that Orange was feeling it too. Knew that he was going to have to take the lead, buck up, and just...ask him.

Chuck stopped him, hand on his hip, spinning him around and pulling him in close. He bent his head just as Orange lifted his, lips brushing together. Orange sighed sweetly against his lips, and Chuck had to deepen the kiss, letting go of his hand to cup his face. He still tasted like orange juice and moonshine, sweet on his tongue, calming him down. He could do this.

“Um.”

Great start, Chuck. He cringed at himself, biting his lip and looking down at the floor. Fuck, why was this so hard? He’d fucked plenty of girls before going to jail just by asking, had managed to convince Orange to fool around with him as well, why did this feel much harder than any of it?

His ribcage, cracked open. Orange peering inside, seeing his heart. He’d never let anyone see it before, but there it was and Orange was...was looking. Looking right at him, tilting his head up, smiling softly.

“Yes, Chuck?” Orange asked, voice sweet, soft.

Alcohol always made him sweeter, pliant, almost...lazy in a way. Lazy little smile, even though he was just tipsy. Like he was looking right at his heart, holding it in his delicate little hands, and he liked what he saw. 

And Chuck sorta wanted to say that he wasn’t going to say anything, take him to bed just like usual. Hands or maybe mouths, what they usually did. But...sharing a flask, kissing in the park when no one was around, hands linked together...hands, mouths…

He wanted more. Orange was looking right at his heart like he liked what he saw, and Chuck wanted all of him. The parts of him that he probably didn’t even know Chuck could have, and Chuck still didn’t know how to ask, but Orange was looking up at him, expectant.

Chuck took both of his hands in his, bringing them up to his face, brushing his lips against them. The flush across his face was beautiful, Chuck had always thought he was beautiful. In every way.

“You going to let me take you to bed?” He finally asked, a little bashful, a little muffled against his hands.

He hoped that Orange would get what he meant, hope that he wouldn’t have to explain himself any further. He didn’t even know if he had any explanation for what he wanted to do to Orange, all of those illegal things that he’d never thought about until Orange had crashed into his life.

Orange flushed even more and, yeah, he probably got what Chuck meant.

“O-Oh,” he started, stammering, “oh, Chuck, I’ve...I’ve never done _that_ before.”

He turned his head, flush starting to disappear down his neck. Chuck wanted to see, see how far it had gone. Take him to bed, strip his clothes off and lay him down, get...get inside of him. But Orange seemed so nervous and a little unsure, and Chuck...he wanted him, but Orange had to want it too.

“I’ll be gentle.” He said.

And then he winced at himself because what wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

“Um, I mean. We don’t have to if you don’t want to yet...or ever, we don’t have to do it ever if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Orange said, voice so soft, “I want to, it’s just...I’ve never done _that_ before.”

He hadn’t done anything since before Chuck, Chuck knew that much. He’d certainly hadn’t gone and committed sodomy after skipping everything else, he was...he was a good man. And Chuck was taking that from him, but…

Orange seemed to think that he was good too. Holding his heart in his hand, he could tear it like he tore into the skin of an orange, devour it segment by segment. Hold up dripping flesh to Chuck’s lips, and Chuck would...Chuck would take it. Open his lips, let Orange feed it to him, juice dripping down his lips. He was good and warm.

He could, but he didn’t, cradling his heart close to his chest.

“I’ll be gentle.” He said, again.

And Orange nodded, and Chuck’s chest felt full and good and warm, his heart in Orange’s gentle little hands. He loved him, maybe this would give him the courage to say it, to take Orange’s heart into his own hands. Receive such a gift, such a beautiful little thing. He might crush it unintentionally, dig his fingers in too deep when trying to peel an orange, ruining the segments as he tried to feed Orange like how Orange fed him. Raising broken flesh to Orange’s lips, he thought that Orange might take it anyway.

He leaned down to kiss him, he had to, lips pressed together. It was Orange who deepened the kiss then, sliding his tongue into Chuck’s mouth, hands fisting into his shirt. A little hint of desperation, eagerness. Like he really wanted Chuck…

Like he wanted him too. Like he wanted Chuck inside of him, god, he was going to be inside of him. Orange was going to let him fuck him.

A few steps forward, Orange was leading him over to the bed, ready to spread himself out for Chuck. But...but they needed something before they could get there, Chuck breaking the kiss and pulling back, heart skipping a beat at the little whine he let out.

Holding something so delicate in his hands...he wasn’t going to let him break, not if he could help it. And he couldn’t be the one to break him, needed something to ease the slide. God, Orange was going to let him fuck him.

“Go lay down, darlin’,” Chuck said, grin spreading over his face, “I just need to grab something.”

He watched as Orange walked over to the bed, slender hips...cute little ass. He was really going to let him fuck him. He was sweating over it already, knew that he had to make it good. Or else, Orange might not let him do it again. He hadn’t done it yet but he already knew that he’d want it again, need it again. He wanted Orange to want it again too, so...it had to be good. 

Orange had bought cooking oil earlier, a new bottle set on the counter. He snatched it up and made the short trek back over to their bed, over to where Orange had spread himself out over the covers. He looked as beautiful as the day they’d crashed together. Orange flushed as he set the bottle on the bedside table next to the candle he had lit, like he knew what it was for, although Chuck supposed that was obvious.

He’d settled into bed with all of his clothes on, save for his bow tie which he’d undone. The sight would’ve made him laugh a little if not for the flush on his body and the unsure look in his eyes. In that moment, Chuck knew that he was going to have to take care of him. Holding his heart in his hands, softer than he’d ever held anything before. 

“C’mon, let’s get you undressed.” Chuck said, smiling down at him, trying to reassure him.

He wasn’t going to tear into him like he would an orange, trying to get the sweet flesh inside. Open his rib cage with reckless abandon, rip his heart out, tear into that too. He’d never held anything so gently in his life but, for Orange, he knew that he’d have to try and be gentle.

Chuck stripped him of his clothes, moving slow but surely, thumbing through each button, like if he hesitated for even a second, Orange would rethink it. His heart, slipping from Chuck’s hands. But...Orange looked scared but...sure. He looked sure of it, of what they were going to do. He shifted his hips up, trousers and underpants coming off, hard cock springing free, and Chuck was right, he was flushed all over.

“Fuck,” Chuck hissed, hand coming up, reverent as he stroked over his pink thighs, “you’re so hard already.”

“Told you I wanted to.” Orange said, head tilted away from Chuck, already so embarrassed.

It was endearing, hand coming up to circle around his prick, giving him a few loose strokes just to watch him squirm and pant. He was so beautiful and he was letting Chuck touch him and...and he was going to let him fuck him, and the bottle of oil was right there. And his hole was lower, past his cock, and he was going to let Chuck...let him in there.

Christ. Trusting him with such a thing. Rough hands, holding his heart. He reached for the oil, moving only under instinct and candlelight. He wanted to make Orange feel good, of course he did, but...it was about more than that, wasn’t it?

It was about being close to him, as close as two people could be. Holding hearts in hands, Orange already had his...maybe he’d already had Orange’s that whole time. Crashing together, making the exchange right then and there. He’d held his heart for that long, hadn’t crushed it yet. He’d never felt that way before. So sure and unsure, simultaneously, careening over the edge of a cliff.

But Orange was there with him. Watching him uncap the oil, spilling too much into his hand, dripping down onto the sheets beneath them. Settling between his spread legs, slowly working a finger into his little hole. Watching as it parted for him, nudging into him, he’d never thought of his hands as that big until he met Orange and held both of his delicate hands in just one hand, thinking that things would never change.

A little wife. Kids. Land in Kentucky. He didn’t need a wife. He had Orange. Had him in every sense of the word.

Orange gasped when he slipped that first finger into him, pale lashes against flushed cheeks. He always got a little lazy when he drank, even when they fooled around, but his back arched up a little and his fingers clenched into the ruined sheets under them. They’d barely even started, and Chuck had already ruined the sheets, but Orange didn’t seem to mind.

“How’s it feel?” He asked, finger stilled, fully inside of him.

And Orange flushed, moving his mouth, no words coming out, eyebrows furrowed. He was so warm inside, warm and good, and hot and...and incredible. Chuck couldn’t believe that he really was going to let him inside of him, just like that. Chuck asked and...and Orange had said that he wanted it.

Chuck was going to have to give it to him.

“It feels...queer.” He said, and Chuck had to laugh, bending down and pressing his grin into Orange’s throat for just a second.

“Yeah?” Chuck asked, pulling back to look at him, “In a bad way?”

“No,” Orange breathed, voice quiet and high, “no, not bad. Different. Good. I like it...please, Chuck…”

And he didn’t know what Orange was asking for, but he started to move his hand and Orange gasped, and that felt good for him too, queer and good, pressing a soft kiss to his throat before drawing back to watch his face. Watching the way he tensed and shook when Chuck thrust his finger back into him.

Different. Good. He’d never felt anything like that before, the drag of Orange’s hot body around his finger. It felt so real, it was actually happening. Warm and good. He wanted more, wanted to be inside of him already, but he knew that Orange was going to need way more than that. He wiggled his finger in and out, Orange making these little gasping noises, eyes a little bleary. 

Chuck thrust his finger a little more, a little quicker, moving it like he was trying to pry him open. He didn’t know why, it just felt like second nature, like opening a girl up but more serious, he could get away with half-assing fingering a girl, but he...he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t half-ass fingering Orange. 

Maybe he was just a piece of shit. Maybe he shouldn’t half-ass anything. It just all felt more important with Orange. Holding his heart in his hand.

“Good. Fuck, darling, you’re doing so good for me.” He murmured, mindless.

And he wondered what his voice sounded like to Orange, Kentucky thick, violently accented. Sweet words rough with the rhythm of his voice. Big hands, tearing into the flesh of an orange, ruining it. Ruined flesh, pressed to Orange’s quivering lips, asking him to accept him for what he was. And, oh, did Orange accept him, opening up for him, his legs spread to accommodate. 

He had to soothe him, hand sliding over his thigh, apologizing for his crude timbre and big fingers. Like it was something he was doing to Orange. But Orange was arching, putting himself into the act, and Chuck crooked his finger just right to have him gasping, he’d hit some spot inside of him to make him gasp like that. And he thought that he might’ve broken him, put him in some sort of pain, but he watched as Orange’s cock jerked and leaked pre-cum over his stomach, and he hadn’t broken him, hadn’t wrenched him open.

It was good. Orange moaned and it was good, so he did it again and got the exact same big reaction. It was good, he wasn’t...he wasn’t fucking any of it up, like he thought he might’ve.

“W-What-- _oh_ \-- w-what was that?” Orange gasped, eyes wide.

And Chuck didn’t have an answer for him, smoothing a kiss over his thigh instead and hitting that spot again to hear those pretty sounds again.

“It’s good, Chuck. Keep doing it, just like that.” Orange breathed out.

Like he could sense the unspoken apology on his lips, like he could hear Chuck apologizing for tearing him open like that, and saying that it was good, and to keep going. That he liked being torn open. Juice dripping, oil down his arm, pre-cum out of the ruddy head of his prick. Tear into him, feed him the broken bits. Orange accepting it, saying that it was good, that he wanted it, that he wanted...more. 

He crooked his finger back up again, sliding it back and forth, moving slow. Gentle. Orange deserved someone who didn’t have to remind themselves to be gentle with him, someone with softer hands and a softer voice. But, for Orange, he could try to be the softest version of himself that he could be, try to be as good as Orange seemed to think he was.

“Are you ready for more?” He asked.

Orange nodded quickly, face flushed. Chuck hummed, leaning down and pressing his lips against his thigh again, pressing his smile into his skin.

“I’m going to need to hear you say it.”

“Chuck…” He said, breathless, and Chuck had to laugh.

“Come on, darlin’.”

Orange shot him a little look, helpless, a little pissed off. It just made Chuck grin down at him, crooking his finger back against that spot to make him moan again.

“F-Fuck,” he whined, and Chuck always loved the sound of him cursing, “y-yes, I’m ready for more. Please, just give me more.” 

The urgency behind his words sent heat into the pit of his stomach, had his own prick straining obscenely in his trousers. He was still fully clothed, his own needs second to Orange’s. He probably had oil on his vest and shirt, but he didn’t care, the only thing he’d done to himself was roll up his sleeves. Orange probably knew how to get cooking oil out of clothing anyway, none of his needs were as urgent as getting another finger into him.

He stroked the pad of his second finger along his hole, feeling where it was stretched around the first one. He had to look down, had to watch as he slid that first one out all the way. And it was to start to work two in, but he was always a little impulsive, fucking the first one right back in, a little too rough. Orange mewled and whined above him, fingers clenching hard into the sheets, arching up a little.

A little too impulsive. That was what he was. He did things because he wanted to, and he didn’t think of consequences. He became a criminal because he’d had a taste of moonshine and wanted more, he escaped from prison because he didn’t want to be there anymore, he touched Orange because he couldn’t resist him. Would he hurt him so carelessly as well? Just because he wanted to and couldn’t hold back?

Looking past his own nose, he saw the way that Orange arched up for it. He wasn’t going to break if Chuck went a little harder...perhaps he even liked it like that? But, still, he’d made a promise to him. He wasn’t going to tear into him, not yet, not unless he asked for it. Juice dripping down his arm, feeding Orange bites of ruined flesh, asking for more…

Right. He needed more. He had to do it, had to take care of him. Chuck watched his pretty little hole as he pulled his finger out of him, watched as it closed right back up again. He didn’t know what he expected, but Orange looked relaxed enough and he spread a little more oil onto his fingers to get them ready to go back inside of him.

Chuck had to look at him for a little bit, his flushed face, settled up onto his elbows to watch as well. He was as hard as ever, leaking in a steady puddle onto his stomach, oil slicked thighs, a dripping mess.

“You’re beautiful.” Chuck whispered, and it might’ve been the first time he’d said it, because Orange managed to flush even deeper, and Chuck had to lean up and kiss him.

It was just a brief kiss, a press of their lips, for Chuck had other business to attend to. But it was a need at the same time, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment. Orange had needs too, though, and he needed to see to them. Needed to take care of him.

He pulled back to watch again as he finally started to push those two fingers into him. Orange gasped, a shivery little sound coming from his chest, but he didn’t stop Chuck, didn’t stop him from slowly sliding both of his slicked up fingers inside of him.

“Good?”

“Yes, Chuck,” Orange breathed, “it’s good. Please...like before, that spot…”

He spoke in fragmented little sentences, like Chuck had pushed his brain out of his head. Like he had no more room for it, too full from Chuck’s fingers. It had him grinning, just a little. He was cute like that, all flushed and sex dumb. Like he was drunk on more than just a little bit of moonshine, lazy and languid in that way that he got. He needed Chuck to take care of him when he got like that, and…

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of it.”

And Orange whined at that, so Chuck just had to seek that spot out once again, the one they didn’t have a name for, just that it made Orange make such pretty noises. So he had to search for it again, digging his fingers in and rubbing at it. And he made those pretty noises, looked wrecked already, tight around his fingers.

He wondered how he was even going to fit his prick in there, but it was going to have to get in there somehow. He was so hard that it hurt, and he had needs as well. Maybe it was selfish to think of them, if Orange didn’t want him like that, he’d be okay with it. Be okay with hands and mouths, like before, but...he wanted. Impulsively, he _wanted_.

Like he’d reached into his own chest to hold his heart out, begging Orange to take it without actually knowing if he would, an unpeeled orange, mangled in his rough fists. Impulsive.

Orange reached out and took his heart into his hand, took his free hand in his own. Brought it up to his lips, brushed a kiss to the palm like he was telling him to keep it, like he was telling him that he was ready. And he didn’t know if he was ready, still so tight around him, but...he’d never done this either, so maybe he was ready. If Orange was telling him that he was ready, he was...he was ready. Chuck was just going to have to take his word for it.

He closed his fist around the kiss laid to his palm, bringing it up to his chest. Putting it inside of himself, his heart, Orange’s to hold. Maybe he needed someone to be gentle to him as well.

“Okay.” He breathed out, sliding his fingers out. 

He really hoped that Orange knew how to get cooking oil out of clothes, Chuck had to strip himself down with his oily hand, messy fingerprints all over his white shirt. He sort of figured that Orange would help him out, help him get undressed, but he just watched, a little slack jawed. And Chuck figured that he’d give him a break, considering what he was planning on sticking inside of him, but...but he was staring at him like he was something worth looking at, eyes greedily taking in each new patch of skin.

And no one ever looked at him like that, looking hard in the candlelight to see his body. He was nothing compared to how Orange looked, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. But Orange was looking at him like he was...something good. Something worth looking at. A part of him wanted to tell Orange to look away, because...he wasn’t worth looking at, was he? But Orange was holding his heart in his hand, peeling away and cradling delicate fruit between his fingers.

Tear a segment. Hand it up. Chuck’s lips, brushing against his fingers, taking it from him. Sweet juice, Orange looking at him like he was worth looking at. If Orange was looking at him like that, he couldn’t be unworthy.

“I think you’re beautiful too.” Orange whispered into the dark.

And Chuck flushed. Wanted to rebuke him immediately, a man like him couldn’t be beautiful but Orange was saying it, and he hadn’t lied to him yet. Chuck lied to him all the time, but Orange was honest and--

Beautiful. He wasn’t going to tear into the delicate flesh in his hands. Orange would let him but...he wouldn’t.

Instead, he climbed back onto the bed, stroking more oil onto his cock, getting himself ready to get inside of him. Orange was going to let him inside, he couldn’t waste such a thing. Leaning over his body, Chuck leaned down to kiss him just as he started to rub the slick, leaking head of his cock against his little hole. He still didn’t even know how he was going to fit, but Orange was groaning into the kiss and spreading his legs like he was going to make it fit.

Truthfully, Chuck felt pretty smart about the whole oil thing. Not that he’d tell anyone that he and Orange were doing this, it was illegal and all, but someone should say something to the other fellows who did this with other men. He couldn’t imagine trying to do this without something to ease the slide, he hoped that they could all figure it out on their own as well.

He pressed a little harder. His cock was so much blunter than his fingers, and a little thicker too. Maybe he should’ve used three? He didn’t know, maybe he should’ve used more oil? Orange was whining softly under him, up against his lips, and Chuck had to rest a little more of his weight onto him to pull his hand up off of the bed, cupping his cheek to soothe him for just a moment.

Orange relaxed after that, and the head of his cock slipped in. They both gasped, Chuck shivering at the feeling of tight heat surrounding him. He had to pull back off of him, he was so much bigger than Orange was, he could crush him under his own weight. At the same time, though, it was impossible to look down at the way his hole stretched around him and maintain any sense of control, but he had to look, just for a moment.

Red hole, stretched obscenely wide around him, opening to accommodate him. Letting him in. 

Then he had to look away, looking up Orange’s body, flushed red cock resting in its own puddle on his abs, bright red skin, bright even under candlelight, reflecting flickering orange onto his skin. Chuck smoothed his hand up his side, thumbing over one of his pretty pink nipples, Orange arching up into his hand.

He moved back down, hands settling on his hips so he could give him another inch, and then another one after that. 

Chuck's eyes flicked up to his face, an unreadable little look written over his features. Screwed up, like he was...like he was taking it. Just taking it, like it wasn't good. But he was as hard as ever, body trembling around him.

"Alright?" Chuck asked.

"I-I...god, Chuck. I-It's so much."

He was a mess already, trembling and stammering, and Chuck needed to make it better. Needed to put the pieces back together. 

"I'm with you, Orange. You're doing so good, just a little more and then I can make you feel good."

It was a lie, he barely had more than the head in. But Orange nodded, steeling himself, hands hooking around Chuck’s neck. Chuck spread him open a little more, pushing his thighs open and shifting in a little more.

And then more.

And then more still, and a little more after that, until he was finally, fully buried inside of him. He was sinfully tight, like a vice around his prick, and Chuck was still unsure about everything, Orange gasping under him, trembling and twitching, hot perfection.

"It's in, darlin’, all of it." Chuck said, Kentucky voice rough and soft and slurred, a little ruined himself.

And Orange gave a shaky little laugh, fingers pushing up into his hair, short nails scraping against his scalp just a little, making Chuck shiver, flickering like the candle next to them.

"Is it now?" He said, shaky and dry, and Chuck had to laugh.

"Now, who taught you sarcasm?"

"Same fellow who taught me this." 

He could feel Orange starting to relax under him, grinning up at him in a way that he felt in his chest. He really was beautiful, and Chuck dipped down to kiss him again, forcing himself not to move immediately even though his body needed it. Putting Orange’s needs before his own. Instead, he slipped his tongue into his mouth, chasing the taste of moonshine and orange juice before he chased his orgasm. Orange always went a little crazy for some kissing, and, even with Chuck’s cock buried inside of him, kissing still made him flush and gasp. 

He’d never cared for kissing until he met Orange, now it was one of his favorite things to do as well. Kiss Orange until he was breathless, panting, and ready, fully relaxed under him. 

Chuck broke the kiss, panting a little, grinning down at Orange.

“Ready?”

And he nodded, and Chuck could finally move for the first time, a short little thrust, barely pulling back before pushing right back in. Taking it slow, it was enough for Orange to gasp and moan all high and pretty, but he couldn’t hold back after he started. Chuck was moving and the only thing that could stop him would be if Orange said he wasn’t into it, but Orange was pliant and needy under him, so he didn’t need to stop. 

Orange’s heart, undamaged in his hand, peeled open like an orange. Shared with him, like at breakfast, broken in half and open just for him. Chuck moved slow, short little thrusts, rocking into him. Orange’s hands slipped down from his hair, short nails digging into his shoulders.

And it felt good just like that, Orange tight and hot around him, the little thrusts just enough to make it interesting. If that was how Orange wanted it, Chuck would give it to him just like that and it’d be good. He’d be happy just making Orange feel good. Putting Orange’s needs in front of his, making him feel good. He’d be happy to make him feel good.

“You can go faster.” Orange said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Oh? Really?” Chuck asked, hands smoothing over his soft thighs.

And Orange gave him a pained little look, like he was asking him not to make him beg. But Chuck wasn’t doing that, wasn’t thinking about Orange begging at all. He was just surprised that he wanted him to move faster, there was no way that he was hitting that spot from before. He knew that he should try to look for it again of course, but he figured that he’d start slower.

But Orange was asking for it. So he started to move faster, pulling out a little more, still slow at first but...he was losing control. Just a little. Moving a little faster, pulling out a little more, shoving his way back in. A little ruder than he wanted to be. But Orange was right there with him, digging his nails into his shoulders, pulling him in like…

Like he liked it like that. Shoving his one finger back into his hole, hard, he was the one who said that he’d be gentle with Orange but Orange never asked for it like that. Never asked him to be gentle with him, he wasn’t going to break. They weren’t peeled oranges, they were two men who were offering their hearts, and Chuck...Chuck loved him. He loved him and he was going to fuck him, and maybe he’d say that he loved him one day but a part of him thought that Orange might already know.

So he moved harder and faster, tilting his hips and pushing in until he found that spot again, the spot that made Orange arch up and whine so loud, moaning his name all high and pretty. He’d been worried before about hurting Orange, so worried about what he might do to a fellow like him, that he never stopped and thought about what Orange could do to him. Ignoring his own needs without realizing that they could both get what they wanted.

That what they wanted was the same thing.

He had to tell Orange that he loved him but, first, he had to fuck him good enough that he’d want Chuck again and again. That he’d keep peeling his orange for him in the morning, keep packing him lunches and making him dinner, keep inviting him to share his bed, his life. The ways they were intertwined together, connected, his cock deep inside of him.

The bed frame was starting to shake as he moved harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping together filling the air. They certainly weren’t being quiet, he just hoped that their neighbors wouldn’t be nosy about the whole thing. Not that he was thinking about the neighbors when he had Orange under him like that, but he was thinking about nothing and everything at once, Orange vice tight around him, sinfully hot. It was overwhelming for him and he knew that it had to be way more for Orange, looking up into bleary blue eyes.

He was making such pretty gasping noises, and there were tears falling, and Chuck brushed them away and asked if he was okay, and Orange nodded so quickly that he dislodged more for Chuck’s thumb to chase away.

“I’ve never felt anything like this, Chuck. It’s almost too good.” He said between moans and gasps, voice small and watery.

And it almost broke Chuck’s heart, but he knew that he had to take care of him. Make him feel that good all the time so it didn’t make him cry so much. Although, the tears did look good, shining orange in the candle light, sticking to his pale lashes, reflective on his flushed cheeks. Really, Orange just looked good all the time, tears were just added to it. He’d need to promise to never make Orange cry except for this, except when it felt too good. 

He looked down and realized that Orange had a hand around himself, stroking his cock in time with Chuck’s thrusts, and that wouldn’t do. He needed to take care of him, pushing his hand away and circling it around him to jerk him off himself. Orange moaned, bringing his hand back up to his shoulder where it belonged, holding on as Chuck fucked into him, hard enough now that the bed frame was really rattling and scraping against the floor.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Orange.” He groaned out, dipping forward to press a hot, open mouthed kiss against the column of his throat.

It was nothing like any woman he’d ever fucked before, so much tighter and hotter, but also...just better. Because it was Orange, and he was holding his heart in his hand, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He was hot and tight around him, and Chuck _needed_. 

Dropping his cock for just a second, he shifted, rolling Orange up a little onto his back so he could get into him even deeper. Orange moaned at the new angle once Chuck gave him an experimental thrust, so he got right back into his rhythm, hitting that spot inside of him over and over again, easier now that he was pointed right at it. It felt a little more animalistic that way, like he was mounting Orange or something like that, but he took it in stride, little hiccupping moans.

He could feel it starting to build for both of them, burning in the pit of his stomach, a rising heat, all while Orange’s moans grew louder and less controlled. The tears dripped down his cheeks faster than Chuck could catch them, so it was no use, he had to let Orange cry from overwhelming pleasure, his hand circling back around his cock. He let out a sob at that, and Chuck tilted his head down so his face was pressed against his neck, murmuring nonsense praise that Orange probably wouldn’t even remember from how overwhelmed he clearly was.

Chuck let loose, everything he was thinking, an endless stream of promises, holding Orange’s heart in his hand gently, not tearing into it, peeling an orange, all of it muffled against his skin, unheard over the moans echoing above him and the sound of the bed scuffing up the floorboards. He kept going, stroking and stroking, and thrusting and thrusting, until he had to pull his head back to watch Orange fall apart.

If he thought he was beautiful before, it was a whole nother sight to see as he came on Chuck’s prick. Chuck fucked him through it, stroking him the whole time as he shot pearly white cum all over his abs, joining the mess of pre-cum that had been there before, dripping down towards his chest from being rolled up like that. He shook with it, arching up so high, crying out loud enough that there was no way the neighbors couldn’t hear.

And maybe he would need that land in Kentucky, just to have a place where he could fuck Orange as much as he wanted without having to worry about waking anyone’s baby up. It was a nice thought, owning a house with Orange but...he had his own needs to attend to, so keyed up from watching Orange cum that he had to keep moving.

Orange could only hold on as Chuck fucked roughly into him once, twice, three times, chasing his own orgasm. And it hit like a train, riding over rails that he’d had to build while on that chain gang, having to bury his head right back into Orange’s neck as he shook with it, stopping himself from making any embarrassing noises. Orange’s fingers stroked through his hair as his thrusts grew lazy, still chasing those last sparks of pleasure, starting to mouth at his neck a little.

He wanted to stay inside of Orange for awhile, wanted to stay like that forever actually. He knew that he couldn’t of course but...he wanted to. Have Orange under him just like that always, little fingers stroking through his hair, hearts beating together. 

But he had to take care of Orange just a little more before he could pass out like that, pulling out of him. He regretted it instantly, Orange whining so sadly at the loss, he wanted to be filled and Chuck took it away from him. But his cum was leaking out of him, and his abs were a mess, he needed to be cleaned.

“Hold on, Orange, I’ll be right back.” He said, grabbing for the bottle of oil to put it back into the kitchen.

He wet a kitchen rag on his way back, wiping out his little red hole and his flushed skin, drying his tears. Chuck couldn’t believe that Orange let him do that to him but, there he was, cleaning out the evidence. They were connected like that from there on out, not like it was anything physically altering but...everything seemed different. Good and different. He’d held Orange’s heart in his hands and he hadn’t broken it yet, and Orange took good care of his heart as always.

Chuck dropped the rag on the floor, something they could take care of later, rolling Orange over so he wasn’t in the wet spot. Chuck could have the wet spot, he’d be fine, but Orange deserved dry sheets.

Orange shifted over, moving in so they were nose to nose. He looked tired but also...bright. Awake. His hand cupped Chuck’s face, and Chuck had to return that kiss he’d taken earlier, tilting his head in and pressing his lips to Orange’s palm. He’d never thought about it like that before, returning a kiss. He liked it. He’d never been a romantic before, but Orange really had changed everything.

“Good?” He asked, muffled by Orange’s hand, a little needy.

And Orange rolled his eyes, the little brat, so Chuck had to give his palm a big, wet lick, making him yell a little, wiping it off on the sheets under him with a big, fake frown on his face. And, well, Chuck had to kiss any frown off of his face, fake or real, pulling him in closer to do it, hands clenched on his bare hips.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it meant more to him than it did to Orange, but Orange was kissing him back so sweetly, fingers slipping up into his hair. He hummed happily into this kiss and Chuck felt good. Warm and good, his heart in safe hands, those safe hands stroking through his hair.

“Of course it was good.” Orange said, smiling after the kiss broke.

And then he was turning in Chuck’s arms, shifting so his back was against Chuck’s front, tucked under his chin. There was so much that Chuck needed to tell him but...after what Orange had just let him do, he wasn’t going to keep him awake so he could risk everything over a silly little word.

Then he’d probably need to sleep in and Chuck would have to peel his own orange, and it wouldn’t taste the same if he ate it by himself. Instead, he just pressed a soft kiss into blond hair and hoped that, for now, it’d be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you liked it! you can find me on tumblr, @ [ or-ng-c-ss-dy ](https://or-ng-c-ss-dy.tumblr.com/).


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